Restraint
by divine one
Summary: She makes a bet with him. One that he almost wants to lose. Eliot and Sophie


**Title** Restraint  
**Author** Devylish  
**Pairing** Sophie/Eliot  
**Rating** pg13  
**Words** 1947  
**Disclaimer** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are the property of the creators of the TV show **Leverage**. Any original characters, settings and plots are the property of devylish. devylish is in no way associated with the TV show **Leverage** and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made.  
**AN **unbeta'd **AN** Response to the Leverage500 'Abstinence' challenge.

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He was a man of restraint.

Even when he was beating a man. He beat him with precision. With aim and finesse.

Of course, a fight was never clean. Never without unexpected damage. You couldn't always count on the other guy to move in the direction you wanted him to. To swing with the force or depth that you expected.

The key… the key to success, therefore, was restraint.

Measured movements. Reading and responding to your opponents moves… to their almost moves. The twitch of an eye. The flex of a finger. An intake of air. Read and respond. Don't overreact. Simply react. Respond.

But keep it under control.

***

Because he was a man of restraint, Eliot accepted her bet without thinking.

Because his life was built around control; physical and mental control, he said yes… without thinking and almost without fear.

Unfortunately for him, restraint, and control were only useful, fully useful, against an enemy with standard weapons. Fists, feet, guns, knives.

Restraint and control were nothing against the arsenal that Sophie Devereaux came armed with.

"_Just two weeks baby. You just have to go two weeks without…" she smiled innocently, "trying to 'ring my bell', and if you do; if you make it through the full fortnight, you win." _

_She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "But, if you can't make it, if you find you need me… during those two weeks… you lose."_

_He let his hands fall over her hips. "I lose huh?" He brushed his lips against her forehead. "What do I win __**when**__ I win?"_

"_Someone's a confident boy. I'd be hurt if I didn't __**know**__ you were going to lose." She held her finger up to his lips when he opened them to protest. "If you somehow win this little bet, I'll buy you that new 2010 Harley you've been talking about."_

"_The VRSC?" He could, of course, afford the bike himself, but it was nice to get gifts, especially from a pretty woman. "Babygirl, you just lost a bet."_

"_We'll see."_

_He moved closer to her, his hips pressed against hers. "And if __**you**__ somehow win this lil' bet darlin'? What do you get?"_

_Her hands lay lightly while her eyes pressed heavily upon his chest._

_He knew what she wanted. "Sophie, baby." _

"_That's the bet. The deal. You remain abstinent for two weeks, fourteen days, and you win a bike. With all the trimmings." She stepped away from him. "And if I win, if you can't remain," she gave him a small smile as she hugged her frame, "Sophie free for that period of time. We try. No holds barred, full-fledged, trying."_

_He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Darlin'…"_

"_Are you going to chicken out on me Spencer?" Her voice was light, teasing, but her eyes were… so deep. So invested; in him. In them. In their future._

"_I'm not the type to back down from a challenge Beautiful. Two weeks." He reached for her and pulled her closer. "Starting tomorrow."_

_She laughed, her husky, delicious, just for him laugh. "One last drink for a dying man?"_

"_One last, long, drink."_

_***_

He knew after day three that he was fighting a losing battle. Since they'd become a couple, he hadn't spent more than one night apart from her. Hadn't spent more than one night 'not' being in her. And now, at night three, he was seriously weighing whether it was more painful spend the night in the same bed with her, not touching her, or whether it was more painful to sleep on the couch, unable to smell her hair, feel her skin.

He looked down at the tent in his shorts. He was screwed – his cock twitched – one way or the other. At least if he was in bed with Sophie, he was with her. Sweet pain.

He was a tough guy. He could handle a little pain.

***

Day six and the rest of the team was having problems with him. Problems with his attitude; the attitude brought about by the fact that he wasn't gettin' any.

And he wanted some.

"Beer?"

He looked up and nearly swallowed his own tongue at the sight of her. She wasn't wearing anything special. Jeans and that pink sweater of hers; the soft one. The one that kind of made him want to touch it and then compare that softness to her skin. It was almost as soft her skin. Almost, but not quite. He still hadn't found a thing yet that matched her silk and cashmere skin. The skin he couldn't touch. At least not the way he wanted to. Not for another 8 days.

"Eliot? Beer?" She offered again, not even a hint of a 'knowing' smile gracing her face.

But he knew she knew how close he was to breaking.

"No!"

Sophie didn't jump, but Parker, sitting at the other end of the table did jump; a frown settling on her face.

He glanced at both women in frustration; he didn't like scaring Parker, and he didn't like yelling at Sophie. But, yeah, he was frustrated. Frus-fucking-strated. "Sorry. No. I don't want a beer." He pushed away from the table. "I'm going home. Tell Alec to buzz me when he gets his toys back up."

Alec's voice boomed in over the loudspeaker. "Hey, no man. It's not my toys. My toys are always up. And always working. My toys have no problems. It's the satellite. Can't do nothin' without the satellite uplink."

Silence.

"Uh, Eliot?"

"Sorry, Alec, he's gone already."

"Man can't attack another man's toys and just walk out of the building." Alec's pout could be heard through the speaker.

Parker lifted her feet up into her chair and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Did you and Eliot have a fight?" She was looking at Sophie pointedly.

"No. Not a fight."

"Then why is he being lemony?"

"Lemony?"

"Sour and scrunchy faced. Lemony."

Sophie chuckled. "I think… he's probably… well basically, we're playing a game."

"And he's losing?"

"I… hope so."

Alec's voice broke into the conference room again, "woman, can't you just let him win? Whatever game you're playing is driving him insane. He nearly bit my head off yesterday for walking by his car without genuflecting or… something in front of it."

"It's not polite to listen in on other peoples conversations Alec. And no, I can't just let him win. Not this game."

Parker looked at Sophie, her cute pixie face suddenly filling with knowledge. "Is this a sex game?"

Turning pink, Sophie held her finger up in front of her lips, shushing the petite thief at the same time that she nodded 'yes' in her direction.

Parker ignored the hint and yelled up toward the ceiling. "It's a sex game Alec! See, I told you everyone plays sex games!" She unwound herself from her chair and hopped up, intent upon finding Hardison and putting some of her games into play. Stopping by Sophie's side she bent down next to the woman and whispered. "I hope you win. But if you could make it a quick win, so that I don't have to kick Eliot's ass for being a jerk, it would be great." Leaving a blushing Sophie at the table, Parker skipped out of the room.

_I hope I win too._

***

It took until day ten for Eliot to break.

But then again, it took until day ten for Sophie to pull out the big guns.

He walked into their place (her place) and found her sitting on the couch wearing a towel. Well, technically, she was wearing two towels, one on her head and one around her body, but it was the one barely clinging to her frame that got his attention.

She was rubbing lotion, some of that cinnamon vanilla stuff he'd bought her, on her leg.

Remember that scene from The Graduate, where Dustin Hoffman watches Mrs. Robinson slip off her nylons? Well Eliot remembered it, and it was in no way as erotic, tempting, or delicious as Sophie Devereaux, in the living room with lotion on her hands and her legs, and her foot pointed ever so elegantly…, sexily.

She looked up at him, the consummate actress, with innocence in her eyes. "Oh you're home! Did you and the boys have fun?"

He stared at her for a few seconds before verbalizing his acquiescence. "If we do this… I know I'm going to screw things up. I'm going to screw us up. I'm damn well going to screw up a baby."

Her hands were frozen on her legs, not truly believing that he was capitulating. "Eliot you won't screw anything up. We've been together for almost a year now and you're wonderful. You're an incredible man. I couldn't ask for… I've never had a better man in my life." She stood up, quickly rubbing the excess lotion into her hands as she moved to his side. "You'll be an amazing father."

Her scent, cinnamon vanilla and the fruity almondy stuff she used in her hair slid over him. He pulled the towel off of her head, and watched her dark damp hair fall to her shoulders. He sighed and ran his fingers through a few strands.

He more scared than he'd ever been before in his life. Looking her in the eyes, he wrapped his arms around her waist. "I'm going to fuck this up Darlin'."

"You'll be great."

"Why the hell aren't you scared? We – you and me – and Parker and Alec and Nate? We are anything but the right kind of people to bring a baby up around."

She smiled, "I'm scared shitless, but I'm an actress; apparently a good one." She swallowed hard as her façade fell. "Baby, all of us, the gang, we're a family. Broken. But what family isn't? We'll set rules." She grabbed his hand and started walking him back to the bedroom. "We'll tell Parker no rappelling or roof jumping with the baby until she's at least 6 years old. And Alec? He won't be able to teach the baby how to hack onto sites until she's 10." Pushing his leather jacket off of his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor, Sophie continue. "Uncle Nate won't be allowed to drink in front of the baby at all. And I promise not to steal anything… when the baby's around."

She pulled his t-shirt out of his jeans, bunching it and pulling it up and over his head.

"And me?" His hands moved to the top of her towel. He shook his head "What do I bring… or not bring to the table for this 'little girl'?"

She worked on his belt as he undid the knot on her towel. "You promise not to beat anyone to a pulp in front of the baby…. Unless they're threatening me. Or the baby. Or one of the gang. Or one of our clients. Or they otherwise deserve it."

He gave half a laugh. "So many rules." He was touching her skin again and his brain was shutting down like it always did when she was close.

"Rules that, mmmm, are bound to change with very little notice as mom and dad see fit."

"Mom and dad huh?"

"Yes, mmm, you get to make up some rules too. Perk of being a parent."

He guided her to the bed, edging his body along hers as she settled on the comforter. "Can I start making some rules up now?" His hand trailed along her rib.

"Right now Eliot, you can do whatever the hell you want to do."

"Just remember _you_ said that."


End file.
